Overcoming Boundaries
by Sweswe
Summary: An arranged marriage was the last thing he needed. The last thing he wanted. What about his duties as a prince? What about the woman he loved? What about his opinion? He wanted nothing to do with the Hylian princess whose heart was impossible to decipher.
1. The Engagement

___Overcoming Boundaries_  


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_**Chapter 1**_

-o-

_**The Engagement**_

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_I guess that it is all a part of being young. I thought that I was on top of things. That I knew it all. I thought that I knew what it meant to love someone – I thought that it meant to protect. That was before my shaking fingers ran through her hair, and I wanted to circle those golden locks around my fingers and tie her to me forever. It was before I craved the vision of her with my eyes instead of becoming a victim to my own shyness. Before I held her tight and my arms grew to miss her shape whenever she was not near. Before I kissed her lips and found that I was to walk famished every moment I could not taste her. Before I realized she was a drug driving me crazy, and now I feel that I know nothing at all._

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"I absolutely refuse!"

A loud echo bounced up the stone walls when the chair tumbled to the floor. The young man, standing by the table that filled up most of the circular room, was taking deep breaths while waiting for the furious blush on his cheeks to fade. Bangs were left in a mess after he had run his fingers through them, again and again. The navy cape was hanging askew over his slender shoulders. There was only one more person in the room. A man in sky blue robes and a heavy white mantle. There was no mistaking that this was a hardened man, shaped by battle. The great crown defined the thick line formed by his eyebrows and made him look stricter and more intimidating than he already was. Still sitting – his hands locked together – he peered at his son, more amused than baffled by his outburst.

Since the day he was born, Marth had not raised his voice against his father once. The boy was meek, tender and obedient to a fault. Not a single thing King Cornelius said or did would change his son into the heir he had wished for. In spite of years of training, Marth still looked as frail as a maiden. He did wield a sword with perfect technique, but lacked the spine to use it against a foe. That he had a knack for writing and dancing was of little use for a war nation. This sudden defiance was a first, and it was hilarious. Not only because Prince Marth was not even half the size of his father whom he opposed, and less fearsome than the meekest lamb, but because the young man imagined himself to have a say in the matter.

"Son, a week has passed since the portrait arrived, along with the request for marriage, and we cannot insult a great nation as Hyrule by withholding our reply," Cornelius said and the prince pressed his lips together. The king almost let a chuckle ruin his composure when he saw his son's struggle not to speak out of line. "Those long-eared Hylians have always kept to themselves. They've prospered behind closed doors any man would kill to open up. A union with them would be most beneficial for Altea."

"For Altea?" Marth exclaimed, too upset to muster the self-control needed to stay silent. "You're the one who has always said that a true king is out there on the battlefield alongside his men. I should be on the front line protecting Altea! How can I be expected to stay behind and fuss over some foreign princess when people are dying out there?"

"You have not been to battle once yet. You are far from a king, and if you plan to become one you will sooner or later need a queen. Might just as well be sooner."

Marth crossed his arms and gave it another shot to fume in silence. Cornelius took the opportunity to indulge in sweet visions of the future alliance, taking his time to fill the silence with vivid descriptions of the battle skills of the Hylians and their great bounty. How could anyone turn that down?

"I thought that you, with your fondness for _doves_ and _flowers_ and _poetry_, would be thrilled to spend your days courting a beautiful lady rather than going to war," the king finished his long speech. The contempt he felt for the things he spoke of melted into each word.

The prince's eyes fled to the side. He breathed in and his impatient breaths slowed down. It was not becoming of a prince to lose his temper over mere words, he reminded himself. Not over words purposely chosen to upset him. Not when he had heard every insult a thousand times already. He had since long reconciled with the fact that his father would never get over what a disappointment he was.

Marth ran his tongue over his bottom lip as his mind frantically struggled to scramble together the pieces of the speech he had been preparing and rephrasing in his head for months now. If he wanted to persuade his father he needed to keep his head cool. A calm mind was one of the most basic rules to being a successful debater. Another was timing. He had not planned to bring this up, not for another year or two – perhaps more – but desperate times called for desperate measures. This was an opening he could not allow to pass him by, as it might be the last one.

"If... If there is a gaining alliance we seek, we could... _should_ further strengthen our bonds to Talys. Their network of... of communication, not to mention their squad of reliable pegasus knights, would be of great use and..."

King Cornelius burst out laughing." And a marriage to Princess Shiida would be the best option," he finished his son's sentence for him. "Is that it?"

The hot blush returned to Marth's cheeks, and the silence spoke in his place. His gaze avoided the king's mocking eyes and his arms, which gestures had helped emphasizing the weight of importance his words had carried, fell down to his sides.

"Forget that childish crush, son. Remember that a prince is a prince before anything else. Besides, we are already on good terms with Talys and their flying ponies."

"Well, they might turn against us if they hear about this," Marth hissed through clenched teeth. He glared while the bubbling anger was slowly, slowly getting closer to boiling over, and his voice trembled when he added, "Shiida _expects_ me to ask her. Everyone does."

"They do? Your relationship must be progressing smoothly. For all of Talys to be this insulted you have to be kissing her in public all the time."

Of course Marth would never have tried that even once. He did not have the guts to approach a woman, less a noble woman whose virtue was to be respected and guarded above all. Marth was the kind to romanticize women from afar rather than experiencing them firsthand.

"W-we have a silent agreement."

"I guess that settles it. We have an agreement of word with Hyrule, and soon a written one that I will send today."

Marth could not even blink. His hands were balled into fists while the sight of his father's smug face burned his retina and refused to flicker for a millisecond. The prince's cheeks felt hot and he would not have been surprised if steam had come out of his ears. He ran his fingers through his hair, grinding his teeth at how difficult it was to think in this heat. But he could not be allowed to lose his temper. He could not.

"I-I love her!" the young prince exclaimed desperately. But what was he hoping for? That love – his faith in the greatness of love – would be powerful enough to change the heart of a man that had never changed his mind?

Love, such abstract of a thing. Was it not so pure and good it drove mankind into sin for it? It ran through war as well as peace. Through grief as well as joy. Through life like blood through veins. Even beyond that – into death. If one denied it, was it not out of fear for something as inescapable as this untouchable? Or pride in front of such might? Only one thing Marth knew for certain, he was not one ashamed to love.

"You do not know a thing about love," Cornelius said, looking Marth in the eye.

"Only because I have never kissed a girl it does not mean that I do not understand love," Marth snapped, guessing what his father was about to say. "You're the one who fails to see – and I feel sorry for Mother for being given away to a creep like you. Love is not only physical. It is more than that and I pity you who will have rotted away in your grave before realizing it."

King Cornelius scratched a spot near his temple before he turned back to his son, watching him with eyes calm like the mirror surface of a pond. "I was not making fun of your inexperience with women, son. What I was saying was that you do not understand the _feeling._"

Marth felt all steam run out of him. Was this man, this cruel and heartless man, telling _him _that love was something he could not fathom? How could there be any truth in such a statement? If there were, he was at sea – drifting lost amongst dark and stormy waves. He could but to stare at his father, begging to be tossed a few words of explanation to cling to.

"Although..." Cornelius spoke and Marth's gaze flew to his lips. "It would not harm with some practice, now when you're engaged and all – or you'll end up making a fool out of yourself. I'm sure that the castle maidens would be thrilled to be of service and, besides them being close at hand, you can keep track off any bastard children."

With a cry of rage Marth burst out of the room. He should have known better than to expect that man to have anything of worth to say. King Cornelius was incapable of loving, and any wishes for it to be different would be a waste. Unbeknownst to Marth, his father shook his head at the empty doorway. An affectionate smile on his face.

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A servant carrying a pile of clean sheets pressed himself to the wall when the furious prince stormed down the dark and narrow hall. The many questions and his own statements were swirling around in Marth's head, to the point that he did not take in his surroundings until he had forcefully pulled the door to his room shut. Everything emerged from glowing blind spots as the fog of rage cleared. He pushed some dark bangs away from his eyes. He did it tentatively, as if the anger was a monster that had crawled back into its cavern and he could not trust this sudden calm it left behind.

The young prince, his back leaning against the door, covered his eyes and took a deep breath before his hand fell from his face. The first thing he laid eyes upon was the accursed portrait. The life size portrait of his bride to be that had arrived a week ago. He sauntered over to the foot of the massive bed and sat down. He hunched over, locked his hands together and leaned his head against his knuckles, raising his gaze to the painting.

"Princess Zelda," he mumbled quietly to himself.

The memory of the sand-colored cloth being pulled off the painting came alive in his mind. Her eyes had been looking straight into his with the soul of a living being. The artist had taken great care to mix in lavender shades in the many blues of the irises, and added the purest white specks of light that shined in the otherwise dusk piece.

He liked being close enough for the structure of the canvas to be visible. To discern the technique. That way Marth could tell himself that this was a construction. An illusion. Because such terrifying beauty was unreal, and the fact that it did look real made it even more terrifying.

Beauty was nothing but beauty however. Granted, women were strange and entrancing creatures, beautiful in a hundred different ways, but this meant that Princess Zelda could merely add a droplet to a sea. True love was the only thing that could heighten a woman's beauty above that of all others. He knew. Across the Akaneian continent there were plenty of pretty princesses. All breathtakingly beautiful. He had seen several of them and Marth fancied himself immune to the many traps they amounted to by now. He could admire them the same way he admired flowers, appreciatively but with a clear mind. It was the exoticness of this Hylian princess that had caught him off guard. Nothing more.

He kept watching in silence. The pallor of her milky white skin rivaled the surface of the pearly moon. The mesmerizing eyes were sharp and observing, like a cat's. The long ears were terrifyingly alike those of the dragon kin when they took human form – the mysterious dragons that were the reason for so many wars and so much bloodshed. The amount of gold and jewels that hung around her waist, across her chest and on her shoulders made his own midnight blue armor feel heavier. Symbols unknown to Marth rimmed the lavender bodice, covered the pauldrons and traveled up from the hem of the silky white dress. Images decorated a long pice of cloth hanging down the front. They were horrifying. Snaking vines. A growing seed rooted at the bottom. A bird with three triangles in place of its head. As if she were garbed in witchcraft. Everything about her was foreign and frightening.

No, he had come to loath every part of this Hylian enchantress. Every detail he could have found stunning filled him with disgust when he thought of how those false feelings could ensnare him and trick him. Because he could never accept a life together with this woman. Being drawn to her would only mean disappointment, failure and sin.

The prince glared at the stiff expression of the painted princess and dragged his feet over to the mahogany desk at the window. He tore the feathered quill from its stand, ripped out a piece of vellum and dipped the quill in ink. He pressed the tip down on the smooth material, and a huge blotch of black spread on it. The thickness of the black, the poor and angry shape of the blotch; as ugly as his own suppressed fury that had made it spill made Marth sag in his seat. With a long sigh he laid the fine parchment aside and placed a new one in front of him. With swift yet gentle flicks of his wrist the quill moved lightly across the page, leaving three words for Marth to stare at.

_My Dearest Shiida_

An unfamiliar sound – throaty, whining, painful – came out of him when he tossed the letter away from himself and allowed it to flutter off the desk without giving it as much as a second glance. He pulled out a new sheet and wrote quickly.

_My Dear Shiida_

The quill stopped moving. How could he tell Shiida that he was betrothed to another woman? He felt the words that wanted to escape the quill. The question whether she would consider leaving all of this behind and escape with him. Would she agree to elope? To wed him even without land, gold and honor? To leave her own country and comfortable life for him?

Marth knew that he could never write those words. All he could do, and all he wanted instead of this fool's dream, was to tell her with his own words why he was getting married to another. He could not ask her to wait for him to find a way out. He had to be a man and keep his head high for both their sakes. The second letter fell to the floor and the third one was started.

_Dear Shiida_

Marth paused yet again. The two words, written in leaning elegant letters, looked in their simpleness stronger than truth itself. Shiida was the one who was dear to him. In that moment he decided that he would never allow Princess Zelda to feel at welcome in Altea.

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(A/N)

I have been resisting posting this for months now. The reason is that I am not even close to finished with the second chapter and I have a lot of stories that need my attention more. I am just as dedicated to all of my stories, but because I always switch from one to another I have decided that it is better for me to work on a couple of them on the side instead of having plenty of stories posted with about 1-2 chapters each.

Tonight I gave in to my weakness. I want this posted. I have wanted to write a story revolving around Marth and Zelda for so long. A good traditional romance. Ironically, the heroine of the story has not showed up yet and it takes two to tango, right (I sense my old bad habit of never getting to the point being at work). In any case, Marth believes he has just been engaged to some fangirl sending pictures of herself to make him fall in love. He might be in for a surprise.

I would not like to mislead anyone so I might just as well mention that Shiida, although Marth writes to her in this chapter, is not planned to make a single appearance. That might change but as of now I have nothing in mind for her.

I hope that you enjoyed this first chapter. Thanks for reading.


	2. First Meeting

_Overcoming Boundaries_

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_**Chapter 2**_

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**_First Meeting_**

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"Straighten up, son."

Marth did as he was told. He smothered a yawn while his eyes ran down the long rows of soldiers lined along the sides of the huge stone bridge. They were framed by the opening of the gatehouse where a set of ensigns carrying banners stood posted. The lowered drawbridge followed and last the entrance to the inner ward, making the prince feel as if he was standing in the deepest end of a tunnel with no hope of escaping. About a third of the complete castle guard was standing in formation below the steps at which top Marth was standing – an impenetrable wall in the way of freedom as though his tunnel had caved in. Sadly, no matter how the darkness spread within there was no shadow's shelter to seek outside.

The men's armor sparkled in the sunlight. Altea's green and white colors moved with quiet sighs in the gentle breeze. The enormous castle gate rose tall and mighty behind them. Princess Zelda could not have picked a better day to arrive, and Marth could tell that his father was full of glee at the opportunity of showing off Altea's full splendor. So much as thinking of raining on the king's parade would bring dire consequences. A droplet would be enough, Marth knew, but the prince had it all figured out. What was expected of him was that he act like a true gentleman, and he would. He would welcome his fiancée, kiss her hand in the most heart-melting manner and be utmost perfection. He would do what was required of him, but that was where it ended. His lips would leave her hand in haste. His smile would be full of venomous contempt. His gaze would be colder than a Northern winter. Through every word and every action he would make it clear to her what he truly thought of this ridiculous arrangement.

There was a chance that Princess Zelda would not be intelligent enough to interpret such subtlety. That was to be prepared for, but some discretion was needed in order for Marth to avoid the wrong people getting wind of what transpired behind his polished facade. If so his clever device would only bring harm to himself and he was free to bide his time, seeing as he and the princess of Hyrule would be enjoying each other's company till death did them part.

A part of him did feel bad about snubbing a lady in such a cold manner. After all, she had to believe that he had been the one to accept the proposal after seeing her portrait. She had to imagine that he had fallen in love with her at first sight. She expected a loving man – soon to be an adoring husband – to dearly welcome her. She thought in good trust that she was going to a place she could call home. What instead awaited her was regrettable, but if Marth thought about what he had to sacrifice because of her he could endure. It would not be fair to deceive the poor girl or raise false hopes either. The duty of making the harsh truth known to her was his burden to carry.

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A sudden fanfare nearly broke Marth's eardrums and for a second threw him off balance. By habit his eyes found his father but the king had, surprisingly, not noticed his moment of ungracefulness. The expected guests were approaching and the dull drowsiness that had lowered itself over the welcoming party dispersed in an instant into bustling anticipation. People who had already been standing in perfect lines fixed it to millimeter precision.

"Posture. Posture," Cornelius hissed to Marth who was already standing as straight as a pin. It gave him trouble breathing the way he was sticking his chest out.

Of course peace would only last for so long. Marth could tell that his father had more on his mind after one glance. From the way Cornelius was looking at his shoulder armor Marth guessed that their width was not enough to form a satisfying air of importance and masculinity. Apparently he was a lost case because the king looked away in a state of severe disappointment without any of the usual complaints.

The young prince caught himself staring at his feet and made sure to hold his chin at a parallel angle to the ground. The next moment something soft consolingly brushed his left hand and when his head twisted to the left he found his elder sister giving him a reassuring smile. Elice was surely looking stunning today – pearls in her long dark hair and wearing a silky pale blue dress. He wanted to smile back and show her that he was okay but the corners of his mouth would only twitch. He turned his gaze to the approaching carriages instead. The one thing he was allowed to worry about was his plan, although he had to admit that a part of him was anxious for a different reason. This would be the first time he saw Hylians in the flesh – the first time he saw the woman in the picture in the flesh.

"Astounding," Marth heard Elice whisper quietly to herself next to him and he frowned.

The Hylian princess's cortege was nothing too impressive in number. What made a whisper slip by his sister's lips was something harder to pin down. Something about the air surrounding the solemn party. The guards wore long mail armor that emitted a dull jangling sound with every trotting step of their brown steeds. On their narrow but tall shields, on the flags, everywhere one looked, there were the same peculiar pyramid of three triangles and the bird in flight the princess had worn on her dress in the painting.

The similarity between the Hylians was eerie, even the ones whose faces were not hidden behind stale unexpressive helmets, or weighted down by armor, wore outfits of the same earthy colors that made them blend into an indiscernible mass. The only one whom one could honestly say stood out was a woman Marth had mistaken for a man from a distance. It did hardly put him at ease. The muscular woman would not stray one step from the first carriage, which was the only one without a flat roof and which displayed an overwhelming amount of ornaments – and even stranger symbols – in comparison to the other two.

Out of the corner of his eye Marth noticed his soldiers cringe and shift uneasily. In contrast to Altea, Hyrule had never been involved in any outer conflicts, and any interior ones were not known to the outside world. Yet the Hylians intimidated them. They moved like one man, split into formations of squares that mirrored the Altean soldiers with terrifying precision, and stood frozen like statues when the golden carriages came to a halt below the short set of stone stairs.

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Marth felt a jolt of electricity shoot through his body when one of the lackeys reached out to open the door. But he shook it off. If there was anything he should brace himself for it was that an ugly old hag would limp out of the carriage and introduce herself as Princess Zelda. When people ordered portraits it was not uncommon that a request that the customer be showed from its_ best side _was mentioned in the passing_. _As innocent as the comment might seem it was likely to blame for a heart attack or two. If some extra gold had mistakenly dropped into the palm of the artist it had _nothing _to do with it. Anyhow, being shocked to death by the gross difference between painting and reality was not how Marth envisioned himself to end his days.

The lackeys reached out a hand and a silky white glove glided into his palm. Even from a distance Marth could make out the tiny embroideries sewn with shimmering thread on the back of the hand, clearer than had he possessed the eyes of a falcon, simply because he must have seen them in detail over a thousand times during the course of the last few weeks. He felt another electrical jolt inside when the snow white skirt flowed into view. Perhaps there could still be a chance for her to turn out to be different from the nightmarish hex whom he hated with every fiber of his being, but the moment he had seen those piano fingers his heart had sunk.

Princess Zelda was bending down not to hit her head when she stepped out and the vision of her face prolonged the game of hide-and-seek with the prince into the last. White bonds winded their way up the thin bundles of golden hair that were not tied back. The two lengths swayed and fell back against her body when she straightened up and the teasing game came to a merciless end. It was over. Settled. Not a hair was out of place. Princess Zelda could very well have stepped out of the painting and come to life by the work of some black magic.

It was the same disgusting person that made Marth want to clasp a hand over his mouth to suppress the sickness. She wore the exact same dress and the exact same neutrality graced her pale countenance. If the image of her had made one shudder it faded in comparison to having her alive and moving in front of oneself. The painting might deserve credit for capturing the vision of her but, although such words might grieve an artist, a person contained more dimensions than a pencil could ever hope express. It would always be more than a surface; as impossible to be grasped in a frozen moment as a burning candle – who would be able to paint its weak, barely notable flicker or the stirring of the transparent air? Would success even be enough? Every shifting expression and gesture of a person was crucial. The melody of a voice. The subtle scent dancing on the surface of the skin. The memories shining through like the colors of an aquarelle.

Marth found that he in that moment hated her more than he thought was possible. His eyes could not leave her fast enough. Subtlety was forgotten. At the same time there were too many people keeping close watch on him for him to fully give in to his nausea. Without turning his head he could make out his mother lowering her head to greet the princess that had walked up the steps and once it was his father's turn ears were sadly enough to follow the scene. One would never have taken the man flooding the young princess with sugar-coated, sickeningly sweet compliments and warmly squeezing her hand with both of his own – occasionally gracing it with kisses – to be the same man that had slashed a hundred heads off their necks without batting an eye.

"My son Marth. He has been looking much forward to meeting you, Princess Zelda. He has not been able to sit still for the last week."

Marth gritted his teeth and glanced in Zelda's direction. That sleazy old man was moving her over with a big arm around her shoulders and laughing heartily. As if Marth was not sick enough already. It was true that his father often got on his nerves but it had never meant a loss of respect on his own part. This was beyond embarrassing. The prince made sure that his mouth was tightly shut to hide how hard he was biting down when he let his left foot glide behind the other. He clenched a fist behind his back and relaxed his mouth enough to let his lips softly pucker and touch the back of the Hylian's hand. His eyes moved up, his mouth lifted from her glove, and it was no effort bringing forth the hatred. It would not be wrong to say that it was unleashed. He flexed his fingers behind his back when he straightened up.

"My father speaks true," Marth said and fell silent, keeping a fine line between smiling and sneering. He could feel his sister's wide-eyed stare and he better tone the malice down. "I have counted the days and paced around the castle without being able to force your arrival from my mind."

"I am delighted."

Marth could not be sure but when the princess replied he got a feeling he was not being spoken to directly. He glanced at his sister and father but they showed no sign of finding the Hylian's behavior to be odd in the slightest. His father did move his eyes to and fro between him and Zelda though in a very meaningful way and Marth remembered what he had been ordered to say. He turned back to the princess in such a hurry that he forgot all about expressing his dislike.

"We have prepared a chamber for you, and our servants will happily bring your luggage there. It is close to my own quarters and you will have an easy time finding me if there is anything you would like to bring to my attention."

"How thoughtful."

This time Marth had been ready to watch her closely and now he could say that it was not for certain she was looking back. It was as though she had found a spot on his face and was talking to it rather than to him. It was difficult to accuse her of anything though. Without a doubt, she was looking at his face when addressing him – in accordance with etiquette. Then why did he feel squished? Walked over and ignored even?

"If the room turn out not to be to your liking we can put another one in order for you, of course. Your comfort is our biggest concern. I had hoped that you would allow me to escort you so that you can have a look at it immediately."

Marth took pride in his own ability to hold back how insulted he was. He even smiled for a brief second when he made his offer.

"Thank you," Zelda said, cocking her head to the side, closing her eyes and speaking to thin air. Marth felt his facial expression stiffen when she turned around and gestured for the servants to put down her luggage and leave the Altean ones to handle it from there. She followed her attendants back down the steps to the carriages where the rest of the escort was already preparing for the return trip, except for the woman who had caught Marth's notice earlier. Well off the horse she was clearly taller than the average man and even more intimidating than before. The white hair, pulled into a short tight ponytail, contrasted to the fit body and made it hard to guess her age. Zelda stopped with at least two meters space from her and the prince wondered silently what the princess's face, which he could only see from the back, was communicating to this stranger. The older woman's blood red eyes looked back without revealing anything and then she bowed – like a man would, to Marth's great astonishment.

"You have served me well," Zelda said.

"It has been my honor, Princess."

It was brief, formal and over in an instant. The whole Altean royal family watched with baffled faces how the Hylians packed up and left, leaving their princess on the front porch with nothing but a few bags and coffins.

"Uhm," King Cornelius cleared his throat when Zelda returned and the Hylian shot him a look less gentle than before, as if she could guess what he was about to say. As for her voice, it was sweeter than nectar when she spoke.

"Your generous hospitality has left me greatly moved already. Altea must be the most splendid of kingdoms offering me this warm welcome and care without hesitation. Rest assured, if there is anything Hyrule can do for you, you need only ask. You have my word. You are our friend and ally now."

The king stroked his beard and smiled sheepishly. "Oh, this is naught worth mentioning and we did not expect anything in return. Don't think we expected you to bring your own stab or any dowries. We have servants to spare and if only we could do more for you. It is an honor to welcome you to our family and country."

Cornelius turned around and grunted at Marth who took a step forth and held out his arm. Without any glances or second doubts Zelda's hand came to rest right below his elbow and side by side they walked through the huge doors the servants had already made sure were opened and waiting for their entrance. Marth stared at his and Zelda's long shadows linked together, falling down the red carpet, and felt a freezing cold grab a hold of him. He turned to look at her profile and let that cold quietly and subtly creep over her features. His future wife. She looked back and smiled, the kind of polite smile one would give a person when passing by and eyes meet by accident. The next moment it was gone and she was looking ahead of them again, if even that. It was possible that she only let him lead her and was present in body but not in mind.

He was tense. Her light touch made his hairs stand on end, and she had to be aware yet showed no sign that it was the case. He tried to ignore her and it seemed as if the hall stretched out before them with laughter echoing in Marth's ear. Likewise, the steps of the spiral staircases up the towers seemed to never end. It almost felt unreal when the door came into view and their slow footsteps came to a halt. Her arm moved away softly like a ghost and she turned to face him. His blood was pumping agitatedly when he chose to ignore her and open the door with a tight grip around the door handle.

"Everything should already be in order and your luggage ought to have been brought here. My own room is right down the hall. Like I said before, you are free to come and find me should any queries surface." He turned around to leave, while being careful to avoid gracing her with as much as a glance, and his voice, smooth as velvet, turned darker when he added one last sentence. "However, I do not think that will be necessary."

He could hear the rustle of her dress when she stepped inside and the silence when she stayed in the doorway.

"Thank you, I am sure I will find no reason to bother you."

Before Marth could react the sound of the door being shut reached him and it took a while before he noticed that he had not moved a single step. Something was wrong. Hyrule had taken the initiative and suggested this marriage, had they not? Then what was the explanation behind this peculiar behavior? Why did Princess Zelda show neither joy nor anger in front of him? Why was he the only one whose existence seemed to make no difference to her? Any other reaction would have been preferred and any other reaction would have made more sense.

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(A/N)

At last another chapter is done. It was quite a struggle because I became disheartened when I noticed I had spent two pages describing a carriage crossing a bridge. Right now I am only grateful I managed to get past it at all (although I refrain from saying anything about the result). I really love this couple and I have so many scenes in mind that I cannot wait to write.

Somehow I cannot shake the feeling that Marth is being bossed around by his father, not only in this story. I am having quite a lot of fun writing with Marth's thoughts and feelings being the main focus – although I guess that shows considering how I seem unable to stop teasing him. He is quite intelligent and has high thoughts about himself but just because of this it is hilarious (at least I think so) when things do not turn out the way he expects them to. He becomes ridiculously upset and even though he is proud of his ability to stay in control the truth is that he is like an open book to others. No wonder Cornelius is amused in the first chapter when Marth is standing there pursing his lips and shaking with anger. No wonder I am laughing at Marth when reading his monologue in the beginning of this chapter (because he is so devastatingly wrong).

I would also like to thank all reviewers. I have never before received this amount of reviews for a first chapter (although I have never waited this long to update a story with its second chapter either). I really appreciate that you take the time to tell me your thoughts and thank you for writing such nice things. What I want to write the most is the ending of this story so I am set on finishing it – even if it might take a long time considering how seldom I can scramble together a new chapter. Marth might have a bigger problem with this marriage than he first thought, and also a different kind of problem than he first thought.

Thanks for reading!


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